


Outlook: Weekly View

by xtricks



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Slavery, Crossdressing, D/s, Kink, Multi, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtricks/pseuds/xtricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones has a very busy schedule, but he can usually fit you in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outlook: Weekly View

**Author's Note:**

> References canon character death. Set sometime early S1. Inspired by a prompt on but too long for the comm, and not quite within the prompt. "Ianto/team: "Ianto is the team's sex slave - he is there to service their needs and keep them happy. He does this by choice and enjoys it. No abuse, punishment, humiliation or character bashing, please. It's all sunshine and roses, and hot hot sex." Since there's some bdsm in here (all consensual) I'm not sure it fits with the requesters needs.

**Monday**

Normally, Tosh didn't take sweetener in her tea but Ianto had noticed the frustrated line of her shoulders when he'd started his morning duties. After lunch he brought her a cup of green tea, a touch of honey and set it at her elbow.

"I hate him," she muttered without looking away from her monitors. All of them were scrolling with extracted (stolen) data from several Chinese spy-sats and none of the billions of bytes were what they were looking for. Jack's morning encouragement to Tosh, after a night of fruitless searching, had been a snappish order for her to keep looking.

"We all do," Ianto said blandly. He rested a hand on Tosh's shoulder and at the way she bowed her head, he worked his fingers in an easy massage across the tight muscles of her neck. The trembling feel of relaxation made Ianto smile affectionately and he bent to kiss the back of her head. "I happen to have some unscheduled time this afternoon," he was only lying a little bit. "How about you come down to my office around one?"

"I don't know if I'll have time …" but Tosh trailed off with a sigh as Ianto moved to kiss her neck, nibbling gently. 

"Well, I'll be there if you do," he said, straightening up with a last stroke. Her shoulders were less hunched as he turned away. Ianto really hoped she would make the 1 p.m., he'd love the chance to help her with her day.

Ianto delivered coffee to Gwen, heavy on the cream and sugar, and responded to her troubled look with a smile. "I'm _fine_ , Gwen," he said, forestalling the inevitable (and repetitive) question she was about to ask. Her gaze dropped to his throat and she looked away, swallowing hard.

By one, Ianto had rearranged his schedule and was down in his office, rolling up his sleeves and turning the little gas fireplace up. Tosh liked the heat and she liked the little flickers of flame. It made Ianto's sub-sub-sub-basement office seem less like a cave and more like … his workplace. He was just pulling the tall-backed wing chair closer to the fireplace as Tosh slipped in, leaning back against the door and giving him a hopeful look. "I'm not too late?" she asked.

"Of course not," Ianto patted the back of the chair. "Come on."

He settled cross-legged at her feet as Tosh sat down and tugged her heels off. As he pressed a thumb to her arch, she groaned, head falling back, thighs relaxing.

"I have to be back in half-an-hour," she said regretfully.

"That's plenty of time," Ianto murmured, leaning in to kiss her knee. His hands drifted up her calves as he nuzzled along the tops of Tosh's thighs. At the touch of her fingers in his hair and her approving murmur, he pressed her knees wider with his hands and nuzzled her skirt up.

Ianto slipped her knickers down to get at Tosh's cunt. The bunched up tweed of her skirt nudged his head as she stroked his ears and neck and cheeks. She was warm, her pubic hair crisp against his lips as he tongued gently at her clit. The gasp and hitch of her hips made him smile, there between her legs.

Sliding his hands under her arse, Ianto knelt on the floor and licked and kissed and coaxed until she hooked her thighs over his shoulders and pushed demandingly at his head. He fucked her then, with his tongue – the only penetration she'd ever allowed him – tasting the heat of her pleasure, licking up the wetness and breathing hard through his own, unimportant, lust.  
 When the tenor of her moans changed and her heels dug urgently into his back, Ianto nuzzled blindly up to her clit. Sucking on it, he wished he could talk to her; tell her how beautiful she was as her moans rose to short, eager cries, how much he enjoyed the feel of her cunt against his mouth, and the grip of her hands in his hair. He adored the way she rocked through her orgasm, trembling as she tried to draw it out longer, before sagging away from his mouth.

"Thank you, Ianto," she breathed, patting his head affectionately. He wished he could tell her how much he loved her.

"You're welcome," he said with a smile.

**Tuesday**

Ianto was a little at lose ends on Tuesday, now. Tuesday used to be occupied with Suzie. He wasn’t sure if it was morbid or respectful that he now spent the day cleaning up the workbench that used to be hers. The computer equipment had already been transferred to Gwen's station, Jack had reviewed her incomplete projects and taken away the ones that might explode, Ianto was left the the rest. The forgotten bits. The unwanted things.

Suzie's stash of horrible salt licorice, which only Jack appreciated. Notes that Ianto would archive with her more official records, in case there was some secret hidden within. Her collection of cute kitten postcards, whether she had them ironically or genuinely, no one would ever know now. Nipple clamps. Her favorite. His too.

Ianto was just pocketing those when he heard Gwen's sneakers on the grate.

"Did you … know her?" 

Turning around, Ianto saw Gwen hesitating at the steps as if her role in Suzie's suicide made her unwelcome here. "Do you mean, did I know her or _know_ her?" He raised his brows and tucked his hands in his pockets, fingering the clamps idly. "Because, no I didn't really know her. Even though I _knew_ her very well. That's kind of the way Torchwood works, Gwen."

"I don't understand why you let them – everyone treat you like that." Her banked indignation flared again. "I don't care how crazy this place is, you're not a … a _possession."_

"Oh," he smiled and touched his throat. "But I _am_. Come here."

He switched on a general use computer and called up the archives, then tugged his shirt collar lower so the locked leather collar he wore was accessible. "Enter the number on the tag. You need to learn system anyway."  
 Gwen grit her teeth visibly but Ianto felt her fingertips at his throat, tugging on his tag. "It's a Torchwood archival tag," she muttered. Ianto nodded and walked her through a basic archive search.

The record that she pulled up wasn't any different from any other entry in the system. A number code that broke down into categories of harmful, further research, unknown. Extensive entries about testing. Description. The jargon didn't entirely hide what the archived subject was, however. _I. Jones; bipedal, hominid, mammalian, time congruent, assessed risk: moderate. Continued research recommended – J. Harkness._ There were further entries by Tosh, Suzie and Owen, some more extensive than others. It gave Ianto a little thrill every time he looked at it. _There he was._

Gwen sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh, Ianto, _no_."

"It was Suzie's idea," Ianto said, smoothing his fingers along the collar a moment before tugging his shirt up again. Ianto had complained (not for the first time) that all he wanted was a defined place, and duties and to be _useful_. "It helps keep things organized and everything in its proper place."

"It doesn't matter if it's in the bloody system," Gwen hissed. She grabbed his arm, as if she could shake sense into him that way. "Or what Suzie or anyone else told you. You're not different from me, or Jack, or anyone else and you don't have to live down here and you're not a waiter and you're not a trashman and your _not_ just an entry in the archives!"

Ianto rubbed his forehead, wishing there was some sort of manual, or hallmark card for this. _"Welcome to your new workplace, please don't jostle the slave, he's here to help!"_ With kittens. 

"Well," he sighed. "I could give you some line about how Torchwood has always been a little … different, and workplace law doesn't really apply, and maybe throw in a little lie about an alien vat where polite little iAntos are decanted as needed but –" he shrugged. "That's not it."

Ianto loosened Gwen's grip on his shirt. "I am different," meeting her eyes, trying to make her see what was so _obvious_ to him. He could see her searching his face for some hidden misery or doubt or resentment, looking for what she'd feel if she were in his shoes. "I'm different and I like that. No one else can help the way I can."

"It's wrong," Gwen said frowning. "You're a good man, Ianto, smart and able and … and _nice_. You shouldn't be –"

"Like this?" Ianto interrupted, then shrugged, expression wry. "Not the first time I've heard that. Probably won't be the last. And," he finished gently, "Gwen, I'm not really nice at all."

She wasn't convinced, easy enough to figure out, when a half-hour later she stormed into Jack's office. "Jack, how could you --!" before the door slammed shut.

Ianto picked up Suzie's stack of kitten postcards and wondered how difficult it would be to format a _Your New Slave! (proper care and handling)_ card.

**Wednesday**

Owen might publicly complain that Ianto was the _arse of last resort_ but he always showed up promptly for his weekly meetings. His appointments also took preparation. Ianto was adjusting the curve of his breasts (full, soft, convincing and very expensive) when he heard Owen knocking. Snatching up his filmy dressing gown and shaking his head to settle the wig, he went to answer, giving Owen a rose-lipped smile as he invited him in.

"Did you want a drink?" he asked, softly. Softly, softly – that was what Owen wanted. No sharp edges, no harsh looks; low lights and curves and soft hair and full lips and inviting smiles. Always, _always_ , inviting. He was already pouring, knowing the answer, before turning back. 

"Hard day, sweetheart?" he murmured, nestling against Owen's side as he offered the glass. He kissed Owen's temple and slid an arm around his waist, canting his hip to draw attention to the curve of his corset.

"You have no fuckin' idea," Owen grumbled, throwing back the shot. Ianto did, but that wasn't important now. Owen was.

Ianto took back the glass and murmured throatily in his ear. "Don't drink too much, baby, I've _missed_ you."

"Don't you worry," Owen grinned sharp and hungry. His hand dropped to squeeze Ianto's arse. "I've got everything you need, right here."

He and Owen had a little relationship in this room, at this time, and he _had_ missed Owen. Missed this. It was their easy hour in a dirty porn movie; a knock on the door and a happy, hot girl to do anything they wanted. It was letting everything else go; as Ianto led Owen to the bed, as Owen kissed him, his mouth hot and eager, as Ianto lay back dressed in nothing but a pretty rose pink corset, thigh highs and a lacy bra that provided enough disguise to his falsies that they could pass for the real thing.

"You're so gorgeous," Owen groaned. Ianto tugged on his belt with a smile. Owen's cock lifted proudly from his flies and Ianto's throbbed against the satin he wore as he cupped it in his hands.

"Let me give you a kiss, baby," he said sliding down the bed, feeling Owen drag his hands along Ianto's sides and shoulders, then stroke his shoulder length curls. He turned to lick a finger tip, sucking it into his mouth, glancing up to see Owen's flushed and needy stare.

He moaned a little when he sucked the head of Owen's cock into his mouth. The weight of it on his tongue was so good, so familiar. The eager tremble in Owen's thighs made Ianto cup his narrow arse and tug him closer. The thrust in his mouth and the panting encouragement from Owen made him want to just keep on like this. Almost. But he really wanted to get fucked.

Ianto pulled off with a wet pop, chuckling at Owen's frustrated groan. "You know I've got a better place for that cock of yours," he wiggled out of his knickers with Owen's eager help.

He wrapped stockinged legs around Owen's waist as the bed creaked under his back and Owen sucked up a thrilling love bite on his neck. Ianto arched against the pillows, moaned and dragged his painted nails up Owen's back. "Fuck me," he panted, hooking his knees higher. "God, fuck me, Owen."

Getting ready for Owen always got Ianto … ready. The smell of make-up, the slide of silk up his legs, the tight grip of the corset – every moment that passed reshaped him, made him beautiful, just for Owen. The weight of his silicone breasts made him ache for Owen's hands. The curls brushing his skin left him trembling. Ianto ached to spread his legs and feel Owen fucking his way inside him. "Please, baby, please."

Owen groaned in triumph, the hot head of his cock pressed against his hole. "God, you're so fucking hot for it, aren't you? I'm gonna give you what you want –" the first push of his cock stretched Ianto open. "I'm gonna give you every inch of my fucking cock," another thrust, deeper, and Ianto moaned. "Just like that," Owen thrust again, and again, promising he'd fuck Ianto till it was all he knew.

Breathless in the corset, Ianto was reduced to wailing Owen's name when he came, nothing else in his world, as promised. But it was Owen's shout he hungered for, groaning to himself in triumph as Owen bucked and shuddered and came, slumping down onto Ianto and pressing his face to his silicone tits.

 "Fuck yeah," Owen panted. "Next time, wear the leather corset, will you?"

"Only if you give me a good spanking when I do," Ianto said with a smile, cradling him in his arms.

**Thursday**

"I don't know what to do," Gwen was nearly babbling, her eyes wide, hands shaking. "I can't go home like this ... god, I can't go _on_ like this."

Ianto gripped her hands, rubbing gently to try and bring some heat back to her skin. He had no idea why Gwen had turned up at two in the morning with a pizza pie but she was here and she needed him. "You're freezing, Gwen, what were you doing?"

"Just walking around." She shuddered, teeth suddenly chattering as if Ianto's words had reminded her only then how cold she was. "I couldn't sleep and if Rhys woke up he'd ask and I'd tell and ... where's Jack?"

"Not here," Ianto said, grateful for that. Or, at least, he was refusing to make an appearance despite the alarms and the lights and Gwen's voice. Ianto would have to handle this and he knew just how. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."

He already had the fire going in his office, and let Gwen chose a place to sit while he poured a scant shot of Jack's scotch. She perched on the edge of the bed, instead of taking the wing chair, and that was answer enough for him. He sat next to her and offered her the glass. She didn't sidle away from his touch on her back but her eyes were unhappy and lost as she looked at him.

"Think of it as therapy," Ianto said softly, "because that's really what this all is. A place to turn to when there's no one else, a safe place to be or do, or need, anything."

"Rhys is my safe place," she said, small voiced.

"There are some things about Torchwood no one else can understand," he made a vague gesture to the world above. "Isn't that why you came? Because we understand?"

Gwen's eyes dropped to Ianto's collar again, but she leaned forward anyway and kissed him hard. "I don't know how to live a double life. How am I supposed to lie to Rhys every day?" She unbuttoned Ianto's shirt. He slid his hands along her sides and kissed her shoulder. "Lie to the whole _world_ , forever?"

"I can't believe all the things out in the universe -- monsters and death and --"

Ianto stopped her mouth briefly with a kiss but she went on as she pulled him down with her, her hair spilling across the dark sheets of his bed. "Terrible things," she muttered. "All the terrible things -- _god, oh, Ianto_ \--"

She was wet already, desperate for distraction and in no mood for foreplay, she pushed against his fingers. Ianto rolled a condom on and bent over her, guiding himself into the heat of her lovely cunt. She clutched hard at his shoulders, panting as he thrust deeper.

"Time's dustmen," Ianto moaned against her breasts. "That's all we are -- we pick up the trash and clean up the shit ...."

Gwen had amazing tits, full and ripe and nice nipples just right for Ianto's mouth. He sucked on them, picking up a fast, hard pace under Gwen's urgent cries. She wanted to come, he could tell, she wanted to come hard and fast and be left exhausted afterwards. Ianto reared back and hooked his elbows under her knees, forcing Gwen to double up, lifting her arse off the bed, opening her cunt wide for him. He fucked her. Hard.

Her face was red flushed, teeth bared in fierce pleasure, and the look in her eyes wasn't lost and helpless anymore. Angry maybe, but not helpless. Ianto groaned, loving the chance to fuck a woman, to fuck Gwen, to see her looking wild and strong and feel her buck against his thrusts. Her cunt was eager for him, and the tension in her thighs made Ianto work hard to please her.

Gwen was noisy when she came, yelling and bucking and clutching at the sheets, at Ianto's arms, squeezing tight around his cock. Impossible to resist and he could see how Jack loved her then, all bright and demanding and strong. He came with gratitude.

"I'm not ..." Gwen was buttoning up her trousers, hair damp from the shower Ianto had offered her. "I'm not doing this again. _We're_ not. I can handle Torchwood without cheating on my boyfriend."

"Don't think of it as cheating," Ianto said with an uncomfortable frown. He'd only pulled on his discarded shirt, intending to go back to bed and sleep the sleep of the well fucked as soon as she left. "That's not what this is. I'm no competition for anything. I'm just ... general support."

Gwen looked stricken for a moment. "I can't think of you like a convenience. I won't."

"It's up to you," he told her. "You have access to my calendar if you change your mind."

He'd pencil in Thursday nights, just in case.

**Friday**

Friday was always too busy and made worse because Ianto looked forward to the end of the day. Finally, though, he could see the rest of the team out and retreat down to his office. Jack was already there, staring pensively into the fireplace. Ianto pulled out their box and set it on the old sideboard he used as desk, dresser, wet bar and anything else he needed.

"Everyone out?" Jack asked, though he must know.

"Yup. The rest of the night is yours," Ianto promised. The chain in his hands clinked as he set it down and he had to close his eyes for a moment to settle himself. The sound drew Jack to his side, anticipation brightening the lines of his mouth. "Take off your shirt."

When Jack was bare to the waist, Ianto lifted the collar from their box and slipped it around Jack's neck, wrestling to get the buckle closed. The buckle was old, dented and heavy, the leather worn and the round tin tag dangling from the lead ring was the hand stamped original to the one hanging from Ianto's. The set was older than Ianto had birthdays and it fit Jack perfectly. He didn't ask and Jack didn't say, the answers weren't important, its existence was.

Jack's breathing had quickened and Ianto hurried to snap the lead chain on the collar. He gave a hard yank, jerking Jack roughly, sighing in relief as Jack shut his eyes and settled down. There was always that moment when it looked like Jack might bolt, when he looked panicked instead of pleased, and it took the chain to calm him down. On bad days, it took more than just the chain.

"Strip and on the bed," Ianto said, giving Jack's cheek a sharp slap. "Move!"

Jack hurried to obey. Ianto fingered the rest of the gear, discarding the gag, the needles ... picking up Suzie's old clamps and fingering them thoughtfully. When he turned around Jack was on all fours, naked on Ianto's bed, head hanging. Ianto went over and hooked the chain to the headboard, forcing Jack's head up, giving him almost no slack. Ianto stroked Jack's skin leisurely, pinching his thighs to make him spread his legs wider. He tapped the base of the fat plug in Jack's arse to hear him whimper. "Do you deserve to come today?"

"No, sir." Jack shuddered, sniffing in misery as he answered. Ianto wasn't surprised at his response, the day had been frustrating and they'd spent half of it laying a false evidence trail for two dead schoolboys. Those were not days Jack felt he deserved to be rewarded for. Ianto though, wanted to give Jack enough release that he could get through tomorrow, not just pay penance for yesterday.

"Do you think you can be a good boy for me?" Ianto circled the taunt skin of Jack's hole, spread around the plug. The plastic ring around Jack's balls gleamed subtly in the dim light, the anchor for the little contraption that kept Jack well in hand. It had been a real relief to discover that Jack was much less of an asshole when his cock was locked up. He gave Jack a couple of hard spanks when he didn't reply quick enough.

"I - I don't know," Jack whispered, face flushed, chain strung taunt at his neck. "Please?"

Jack didn't like to beg and Ianto didn't make him. These hours weren't about wheedling or lying or coning each other. They were about tasks that could be done and challenges that could be won and rewards that could be genuinely earned.

"You have to be very good for me," Ianto murmured, leaning over and teasing Jack's nipples. "I want you to cry for me," he said, "and scream for me. Can you do that?"

He twisted a nipple hard in his fingers and Jack bucked, wailing. "That's right. Good boy."

It was the clamps next, despite Jack's brief attempt to rear away, and Ianto had to breathe hard through his own greed when Jack's face contorted, aching and open. The clamps pinched cruelly and Jack moaned gutturally. Ianto kissed his bare shoulder.

Jack's shoulders and back and arse were striped red and white and Ianto was sweating hard, before Jack would let go of his tears. Ianto climbed naked between Jack's widespread knees then, and tugged the plug free, crooning in pleasure when Jack's back arched sluttishly even as he sobbed. He replaced the plug with his cock, sliding home in a smooth long thrust and sighing as he bowed over Jack's back, relief rolling through him.

"Almost there," he murmured, "almost there."

He flicked the clamps with his fingers, pinched them to add to the pressure and to hear Jack yell. He thrust hard, Jack was slick and open and easy to fuck, always so ready for it. When Ianto's hands moved to Jack's cock, miserably confined, Jack writhed, half strangling himself on his collar and Ianto used his own cock in short thrusts to bring him back under control.

It wasn't easy to get the cage off like this, but possible. Jack's cock sprang free, stiffening rapidly and Ianto squeezed his balls to hold him off as he set a hard, punishing pace with his cock. He hauled Jack back, forcing more tension on the collar and chain, hearing him cough and struggle.

"Come on," Ianto tightened his grip on Jack's balls. "Scream for me, come _on,_ Jack."

He bit a welt on Jack's shoulder hard enough to taste blood and Jack shrieked and Ianto released his balls and Jack _screamed_ for him and came. Ianto groaned, following Jack's climax with his own, collapsing onto Jack's broad back and trusting his strength to hold them both.

Sometimes Ianto swore they both loved the aftermath better than the main event. He could kiss Jack then; the backs of his knees, the base of his spine, his neck, his mouth. He could stroke him, soothing the welts and bruises that healed so rapidly. Jack would sprawl across most of the bed as they shared a glass of cold water and he'd murmur in pleasure as Ianto coaxed his cock back into the cage and inserted a plug of his choice into Jack's arse. Jack would pet him then, promising him the weekend off, promising Ianto pleasures of his own choosing. Ianto would laugh softly and free Jack from his collar and remind him that these pleasures _were_ his own choice.

"Torchwood would fall apart without you," Jack told him with a smile.

Ianto just cocked a brow. "Never underestimate the importance of general support staff."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Archive 94C](https://archiveofourown.org/works/825236) by [DuochanMaxwell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuochanMaxwell/pseuds/DuochanMaxwell)




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